RolePlaying Night
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: The skirt had to be the most degrading thing about the entire outfit.  But, DAMN, those glasses looked good on Reborn.  RL, some 27 humor


The miniskirt had to be the most degrading thing about the entire outfit. Because, really? Schools _actually_ wanted their female students to dress up like 50 dollar whores?

He held the bright green material distastefully between his pointer fingers and thumbs, scowling at its… well, its _slut-in-ness. _

There was _no way_ he was putting it on.

And then there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Stupid cow," a familiar voice growled from the other side, husky and smooth like cigar smoke, "are you done yet?" His voice took on a purr. "Or do you need help?"

Deciding that he had no choice, he leaned his back against the door as the knob began to turn threateningly (and it could only be perceived as a threat) and squeaked indignantly. "No, no, _goodness_, no! I-I can handle it… _Tol-er-ate…_" He glared down at the offending piece of clothing.

Role-play night. Sometimes, he loved it… like that one night he managed to tease Reborn into wearing a pair of bull horns (it didn't mean he had a cow kink, damn it!) while he wore his cow horns.

Or that other night where they had done vampire hunter/vampire. Where, of course, the vampire had one upped the hunter… and, yes, Lambo had been the hunter (wasn't he always trying to kill Reborn anyway?).

But this… this was… this wasn't even _cute_.

Scowling, he finished his costume and glowered into the mirror. He wasn't happy. But it would have to do.

Stealing a breath, he creaked open the door.

His heart stopped and then sped away; because, let's face it, Reborn looked _fucking _**good**.

The hitman was sitting on the corner of an improvised desk, wearing black silk slacks that ended with black Italian loafers. Over his _finely detailed_ chest was a white button-up shirt, a sunny yellow tie overlapping it. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, his crossed forearms bare and pale.

His fedora was (for once) missing, letting raven, spiky locks spring to life; over his obsidian eyes were retro square eyeglasses, suspiciously green.

Leon was nowhere to be found, confirming his uneasiness about those (smexy as hell) lens.

Over Reborn's tie hung a card I.D., stating Reborn's name and profession… as a principal.

Reborn's eyes wondered appreciatively over his own outfit, which consisted of a sailor top with bright green lapels and a yellow mascot, the edges stopping just beneath Lambo's ribs to reveal a strip of pale caramel skin; the skirt hung low on his hips, hardly surpassing the globes of his ass in length. His shoes were (how the hell had he been roped into this?) green high heels, toenails and fingernails painted sunny green.

Reborn smirked. Abruptly, his expression smoothed out. "Mr. Bovino…" His tone was slightly threatening, enough so that a shiver ran up Lambo's spine. "Why are you dressed in such… provocative clothing?"

Oh, so that's how they were going to play it?

Lambo feigned shame. "M-Mr. Reboyama… The bullies s-stole my school uniform a-and then forced me to w-wear this… If H-Hibari hadn't come along, I don't know w-what would have happened to me…" Yeah, let's see how he liked _that_.

So you could say he was trying to punch a hole through Reborn's fun. Sue him.

He hated wearing skirts.

"Is that so?" Reborn cooed. He gestured to a wooden stool set in front of the 'teacher's' desk. Staring at the most likely uncomfortable piece of furniture, Lambo was starkly aware of the thong riding up his ass.

Damn it, Reborn.

Nonetheless, he took a seat. He bit back a hiss as the cool texture touched his bare skin, the skirt immediately riding up and proving to be of no help whatsoever.

"I'm afraid that that isn't good enough, Mr. Bovino… You see, this school strikes down _hard_ on cross-dressing. Whether or not it was you or some others, you should have immediately changed back into your uniform."

Fuck. How did he always do that? Immediately twist Lambo's logic back at him…

He swallowed thickly. At least Reborn hadn't disputed Lambo's lie about Hibari coming to the rescue; it would have been easy to end the game right there, simply by bringing up that Hibari would have kicked his ass for cross-dressing, no matter willingly or not.

"Th-they… tore it up?"

"Hmm… I don't believe you." Reborn pushed away from the desk and sauntered over to him. "Do you know why, Mr. Bovino?" He leaned down so that he was eyelevel with Lambo, obsidian eyes behind sinful glasses smoldering.

Lambo squirmed in his seat, pointedly aware of how he was starting to come to life between his legs. Okay, so it wasn't such a bad game after all…

The more his flesh strained, the more the thong cut into his skin, making his shiver as his sac was strangled and his hole was rubbed. The skimpy material was starting to feel a little _wet_.

"N-no, Mr. Reboyama… W-why?" He stared at Reborn's devilish lips, the pale flesh gleaming wetly.

"I think you dressed this way just to tease your principal." The man remarked in a soft whisper, almost a growl.

The sound went straight to Lambo's cock. "I-I would n-never…"

"I think you would." Reborn traced a finger down his jaw to the collar of his blouse. "I think you want me deep inside your hungry ass."

"M-Mr. Reboyama!" He faked shock. "S-such things… T-teacher-student r-relationships ar-ren't allowed…?" He purposefully ended it as a question, opening himself up to doubt.

"I can keep a secret." Reborn bit down on his earlobe. "Can you?"

Oh hell yea. "I-I don't k-nn-now… This seems so… _naughty_." Reborn's fantastically skilled hand was beneath his shirt, teasing his nipples. "D-dirty!" He whimpered. "M-Mr. Reboyama…"

Reborn growled. "You can touch me too, _Mr. Bovino_. As a matter of fact, I would implore you to do so~"

"T-that sounds like a-a threat…" He wrapped his hands around Reborn's wrists, crying out as his nipples were pinched hard.

"It is." He whispered. "You wouldn't want your grades to suffer, would you? Or get _expelled_, hm?"

"O-of course n-nn-not…" Shakily, his hands went to Reborn's belt. The man watched him with laughing eyes as he undid the buckle and then loosened the buttons. Reborn's half-hard cock finally escaped the folds of the silk.

His 'teacher' stood to his full height, crotch even with Lambo's mouth. "I'm waiting, Mr. Bovino."

He whimpered. "Mr. R-Reboyama… I d-don't know if I-I'm ready…" Cue trembling bottom lip and teary eyes. "This feels so… _wrong_." In all the right ways.

"Don't be such a tease, Mr. Bovino." He sniggered. "You want this as much as I." To prove his point, he stared directly at the bulge between Lambo's legs, the short length of the skirt further hitched up by its slope. "I'm still waiting~"

He cupped Reborn's length in both his hands and kissed the tip. Reborn's pianist fingers wound into his hair. Casting another teary glance upward, he finally enveloped the man's length in his mouth, sliding the meaty flesh down his throat until it seemed to hit his tonsils.

Reborn purred. "You play at being so innocent, but look at you… So cock-hungry…"

He didn't know the half of it. Instead of cooing like he wanted to (or insulting the bastard), he played the part of the willing victim who didn't quite want to be willing.

He was a good crier, so it all worked out quite well. He let a few crocodile tears slip free as he suckled almost thirstily at Reborn's member, bobbing his head and playing his tongue over the penis. He splayed his hands across Reborn's hips.

"Mr. Bovino," Reborn lightly sang, "you seem to be forgetting your male anatomy."

Lambo caught on. He pulled away, a trail of saliva and pre-cum holding him to Reborn's cock, and stared up at Reborn hopelessly. "B-but, Mr. Reboyama… Please, I-I don't know if-f I can…"

"I didn't know you wanted expelled so badly."

Whimpering, he ducked his head – well, he didn't want 'expelled', did he?

His lips wrapped around Reborn's drawn-tight sac, fondling them and then splitting his attention between them and his cock.

"For someone who didn't know he could, you do a _very_ good job." There was a certain flush to Reborn's cheeks, his hands petting back Lambo's hair.

He let Lambo continue for another few minutes before pulling away.

Lambo had to bite back a whimper. Sorrowfully, he licked his glistening lips clean of the salty musk.

Reborn's hand on his mascot pulled him to his feet. "You see that desk, Mr. Bovino?"

Lambo gulped and then nodded.

"Good." Reborn led him to it. He twirled Lambo around him, facing the teen towards its surface while he simultaneously spread his legs. Tripping over Reborn's extended foot, his palms slapped down on the table, bent over it.

"Mr. Reboyama!" He cried out in fear and indignation. He knew what was going to happen next.

But it was fun to pretend that he didn't.

"W-what are you doing?" He looked over his shoulder.

Reborn had pulled out a bottle of hand lotion (from practically _nowhere_, but that was Reborn for ya) and was coating his fingers thickly with it.

"M-Mr. Reboyama? D-… do you have a s-skin condition?" He made himself sound as hopeful as possible.

The only skin condition Reborn had was the one between his legs, red and weeping. But that wasn't where the lotion was going to go… at least, first.

Reborn smirked. "No."

"O-oh… th-then what are you doi-ing?"

"You can't be that naïve, Mr. Bovino." Done with the bottle, he set it aside. Coming up behind Lambo, he held his hips still with one hand (skirt bunched in his palm) and slid his other fingers against his hole.

Lambo shuddered and then keened. The thong was between Reborn's fingers and his entrance, causing the most _delicious_ friction…

His hands clawed at the desk, creating small crevices in the wood. "R-Re – " Reborn tugged on the thong, intensifying the friction. "G-gnnn…"

"What were you going to call me, Mr. Bovino?" He bit down on the nape of Lambo's neck.

Ah, shit, he almost broke character…

"M-Mr. Reboy… Reboyama…" He panted out. His eyes bugged out of his skull and his mouth fell open as a single finger slid slickly into him. His back arched into the intrusion. "Mmmmnnn…!"

"N-no… No, M-Mr. Re-Reboy-yama… _Noooo_…" Damn, it felt good… "So dirty!"

"And you love it, _don't you_, Mr. Bovino?" He added a second finger and pumped them harshly into him. Caught between the digits was the thong strap.

Lambo cried out, arms failing him and letting his upper torso crash into the desk. "N-no!" A lie if either of them had ever before heard one.

"_Liar_." Reborn scissored the two digits inside of him before twisting them suddenly, reaching certainly for Lambo's –

"MmmaaAAAA!"

prostate.

"Be honest, Mr. Bovino… Come on, it's not too hard to say it."

Lambo looked at him with dazed, blind eyes. Whimpering and wriggling, he pushed back on Reborn's hand. "I-I… I l-like it-t, … M-Mr. Reboyama…" He whispered hoarsely.

Reborn dragged his tongue over his upper lip. "And…?"

"A-and… And I want m-more… Mr. Reb-boyama…"

"Well then~" He pushed in another finger. His other hand went around Lambo's hip to grasp his erection (which had long since slipped out of the too-small pocket of the thong), pumping it in time with his thrusts.

Lambo choked on air. He wrapped one hand around the wrist at his front, not forcing a pace but just holding on for dear life. "A-aaaaaah…."

"Are you ready, Mr. Bovino?" Reborn murmured into his ear. "Are you ready for me to _fuck_ you into the table?"

"… Y-yes… Mr. Reboyama…"

"Yes, what?"

_Bastard_. "Y-yes, Mr. R-Reboyama… I-I'm ready for you t-to f-f-_fuck_ me into the ta-able…"

He chuckled. "Good boy."

Reborn's fingers slid out of him. Lambo whimpered as he felt the wet heat of Reborn's cock at his entrance.

And then realization dawned. "Y-you're not going to take m-my thong off?" The friction… Oh, _goodness_, the friction…

Instead of answering, Reborn pushed his entire length into him in one forceful thrust.

He screamed, head banging against the desk as his knees buckled and his body lost all strength.

Reborn bowed over him, chest pressed to his back, and growled into his hair. "So tight, Mr. Bovino~" He was being teased and he knew it.

"I-I'm a good boy, M-m-Mr. Reboy-yama…" He moaned as the soaked string of the thong grinded against his sensitive insides; suddenly, the fabric felt so _rough_… and it was causing the pocket of the thong to strangle his sac, making him feel so damn _good_… "I-I'm… g-good… Oh, _goodness_…"

Reborn was moving, slowly at first but then gaining speed. In no time, his hips were snapping brutally against the curve of his ass, driving him forward into the desk where his own dick was being subjected to woody _torture_. The thong's string brushed his prostate.

He screamed again, black spots dancing in his vision. He spread his legs a little wider, wanting more – _begging_ for it.

In a flash of white, it all ended.

Ribbons of semen bathed the side of the desk, followed some seconds later by Reborn's cum abusing his innards.

They stood there for another long moment, Reborn's hot breath playing with Lambo's ebony locks while he leaned _almost_ weakly over him, one hand balanced on the desk next to Lambo's shoulder and the other on his hip.

Lambo merely lied there, so damn out of it he wasn't even seeing the wall he was facing. There was a pleasant hum running throughout his entire body, undeniable and impossible to ignore. His fingers curled and uncurled against the wooden surface he was pressed again.

He dragged his tongue over his mysteriously dry lips and then swallowed thickly. Slowly, words came back to him. "M-Mr. Reboyama…" He murmured brokenly. "A-am I still in trouble?"

Against his nape, Reborn smirked. "I think I can let you off the hook… just this once, mind you. _But_~ if you do anything like this again…" He trailed off threateningly.

Promising _fantastic_ things.

Reborn slid out of him; Lambo groaned as a lick of fire surged through him at the friction.

When Reborn took a step back, he nearly melted to the floor. He most certainly couldn't hold himself up any longer.

Reborn wrapped both arms around his waist so he fell back on his chest. Walking backwards, they moved to the bed where Reborn sat down and Lambo collapsed into his lap.

Murmuring tiredly, he kicked off the heels and then wormed out of the (soaked) thong and (suddenly-not-so-hated) skirt. He tugged the mascot off and growled as he realized that the shirt wouldn't be so easy.

He slid a hand beneath Reborn's shirt, reaching between his shoulder blades for the Boker knife suspended there by a holster. He pulled it free and then slid it down the length of the shirt, cleanly ripping it in two.

This was why he always wore button-ups. So much easier to take off…

He shrugged out of the shirt, letting it float to the floor, before stabbing the knife into the bed near Reborn's thigh.

"'Didn't know teachers carried survival knives…" He sleepily drawled.

"I didn't know you enjoyed wearing skirts."

"Shut. Up."

Opening his eyes lazily, Reborn was watching him with amusement. The green glasses were gone.

He almost felt regret. And then Leon leaped onto his naked chest from Reborn's shoulder and snapped his tongue out to catch a drop of sweat circulating Lambo's nipple.

He was as much a pervert as his master, he groaned to himself.

He made himself comfortable, curling into his lover's chest with his feet digging into the bed and one arm wrapped around the hitman's waist.

He grinned. Another successful role-playing night.

Reborn lied back on the bed, dragging Lambo with him. Leon settled down in Lambo's hair, opaque eyes filming over in sleep.

On the verge of sleep, something occurred to Lambo. "Y'know… that desk looks familiar…"

He could hear Reborn's chuckle vibrating through his chest. "Does it now?"

"Mm hm…"

"Go to sleep, stupid cow."

"Go to hell, stingy bastard." He halfheartedly kicked his calf.

Reborn pulled on his hair and kissed him full on the lips, stealing every molecule of air in his lungs in the short contact.

When the hitman pulled away, he was only too docile. Reborn smirked. "That's what I thought."

He really had no argument against that.

_Meanwhile, in a different part of Vongola HQ…_

Tsuna stared at his office – one part of it, to be more specific; the part of his room where his files and papers had earlier been stacked _neatly_ on his _desk_ but now were instead strewn across the floor. His desk was _mysteriously_ gone…

He rubbed his tired eyes, debating with himself whether or not to scream or just bare with it.

At an impasse with himself, he finally decided on enlisting himself in an asylum. They would _have_ to accept him…

Right?

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I was reading 'Three Months' by Alphakennybody when this was inspired. Her story had Reborn come back from a three-month mission only to be dragged (quite happily) into a… oh, I can't spoil it for you guys! You'll just have to read it. But, no, the point is that she (or he; odd how everyone seems to have an indefinite gender in ) inspired this by her own awesome story.<p>

Review, please? 'Cause ya'll love me?


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